


Dance with Me

by Eris_Lovelorne



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 18th Century, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 22:24:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20767907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eris_Lovelorne/pseuds/Eris_Lovelorne
Summary: A short drabble from the prompt "Dance with me."Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves alone on a balcony outside of a masked ball, yearning for each other. Whatever will they do?





	Dance with Me

  1. “Dance with me.” Aziraphale / Crowley

Sometime around the 1700s, the two gentlemen had found themselves at a masked ball, each there for separate occasions, of course, and both happening to end up on a secluded balcony. The melancholy tunes of the orchestra drifted out, barely audible in the chill quiet of the night.

Aziraphale was dressed in cream and white, dapper as always, with a feathered mask covering his upper face. Crowley, in turn, wore blacks and scarlets, his mask the upper half of a skull.

Aziraphale has his back turned to Crowley and the house, staring out into the hedge maze and the manor gardens. A young couple wandered through it, drunk and laughing, getting lost and stumbling about before finding an alcove to hide away in and disappearing from sight. 

The pair was silent. Crowley stood with his back to the wall, arms crossed, taking in the sight of Aziraphale, trying as he always did to commit to memory every detail of the occasion. He knew it wasn’t likely they’d be able to meet for quite a bit.

The music played on, just at the edges of his hearing. It was like an itch Crowley couldn’t scratch. To hear the orchestra play, but to be so far away from everything, to be still. He tapped his foot, trying to abate the feeling, but it did nothing to help. Aziraphale turned around for a moment, the full moon behind him like a halo casting a heavenly glow on his face. Crowley sucked in a breath,  _ He’s beautiful.  _

Crowley stopped tapping his foot, staring at Aziraphale who gave him a small smile then turned back round to his continue contemplating the gardens. Crowley opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, contemplating the gravity of the words he was going to speak.

“Angel,” said Crowley. Aziraphale turned round, looking back to him with his soft blue eyes. Crowley pushed himself off the walk, extending an unsteady hand towards Aziraphale. He could barely push the words out of his mouth: “Dance with me?”

Aziraphale was silent, Crowley couldn’t read his expression from behind the mask. He started to drop his hand, heart hammering in his chest, ready to bolt. 

Then Aziraphale took two delicate steps forward, grasping Crowley’s hand firmly. 

“Of course,” he said, placing his hand on Crowley’s waist. “Nothing in this world or any other would bring me more joy.”

Crowley’s heart nearly beat out of his chest.

“Although, I worry, what would happen if we were to be seen?” pondered Aziraphale, guiding Crowley’s hand to his shoulder. Crowley marveled at the warmth Aziraphale radiated even through his jacket, it had been so long since he’d exchanged more than a brief bumping of hands with his friend. 

“I… I rather get the feeling we won’t be. Something feels… special, about tonight. I think… we can have this. Just this once,” says Crowley, taking his time to gather his words.

Aziraphale hummed his approval, beginning to lead Crowley in a dance. It was slow, they held each other and swayed back and forth, not taking any steps, and having very much forgotten the tune playing inside. Aziraphale reached up with one hand, not the one holding Crowley’s, and removed Crowley’s mask, then his own, gently tossing them nearby.

They looked at each other, truly looked, their naked faces both betraying all measures of vulnerable emotions. They searched each other's faces, longing for confirmation of their respective feelings, but knowing that even if it came there was nothing that could be done. 

Crowley moved his hands, cupping Aziraphale’s face, committing to memory the moment as best he could. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Aziraphale’s, sharing each other’s space. Aziraphale moved both hands to Crowley’s waist, digging into the fabric there as though Crowley were the only thing keeping him tethered to his world. 

They stayed there for a long while, holding each other, swaying to some long-forgotten tune, foreheads pressed together and breath intermingling in the chill autumn air. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt crossposted from tumblr, come say hi to me over at erislovelorne.tumblr.com!


End file.
